Girls' team forced out after boy added as pitcher

I have never been much of a crier. So when my softball team lost in the semifinals of the Minnesota state tournament, I surprised even myself. I sobbed to my parents and family. I was devastated, confused, and hurt. But underneath it all was a sense of helplessness. I was a senior, and my biggest goal was to make the state tournament and play alongside my younger sister. We made it. We battled through the tournament as underdogs. And then our season ended because the opposing team was allowed to put a boy in as the pitcher on a girls' team. His team went on to win the girls' high school state championship. WE WERE FORCED TO COMPETE AGAINST A MALE. THE SUPREME COURT HAD OUR BACKS I wasn't crying because we had simply lost a softball game. I was crying because I couldn't understand how the adults who were supposed to protect girls like me had allowed this to happen.

I later learned that his parents had changed his legal documents to reflect the opposite sex when he was a young boy. What shocked me even more was the realization that the adults around us, administrators, policymakers and legislators, had allowed it and left girls like me tossed aside, hurt and abandoned. We were expected to accept it, play through it and remain quiet. But the consequences didn't stop with my team. When a male athlete advances through a girls' state tournament, every girl who might have faced that team is affected. Every roster spot, inning, championship, award and recruiting opportunity matters. At the elite level, one tournament can change a player's future. The impact extends across girls' teams throughout an entire state.

After our loss, I decided I wasn't going to stay quiet. I never imagined that decision, or that loss on a softball field in Minnesota, would eventually bring me to Washington, D.C. On Wednesday, I spoke at a press conference on Capitol Hill following a Senate Judiciary Committee hearing on opportunity, fairness and safety for female athletes. Getting to this point has not been easy. My decision to openly share my experience has come at a price.

I was recruited to play Division I softball at Western Michigan University. I entered college hoping to find my voice and pursue my dreams as a student-athlete. Instead, I felt isolated and shamed for speaking publicly about what I had experienced. I was even directed not to identify my university to the media. The message was clear: Keep quiet.

I believed then, and still believe now, that girls should not have to surrender roster spots, playing time or championships to boys because some adults have decided that the feelings of boys mean more than the feelings and opportunities of girls.

In an introductory sociology class, I was assigned a paper explaining the difference between sex and gender. I received a zero. My professor told me to remove any bias and dive deeper into the difference between the two. She was telling me I was wrong to treat sex and gender as synonyms and that a person could identify as another gender by adopting stereotypes associated with the opposite sex. Confusing? Yeah, I know. I felt like I was being asked to erase my own perspective and accept something I believed was untrue as fact. I won't accept that women can be defined by sexist stereotypes. This wasn't just a classroom debate. I had lived it.

The lack of support from my coaches and the pressure in my coursework led me to transfer after my freshman season. Today, I play softball at Colorado Christian University. I feel supported, encouraged to speak out and, most importantly, unashamed to tell the truth about what happened to me. I am now a sophomore in college, but I still think about that girl crying after the state tournament.

Thinking of my younger sister and all those cousins coming after us fills me with worry.

I was once a female athlete standing on the field, but now I am in court fighting for them. We desperately need more Sophie Cunninghams to stand up when others stay silent.

The loss on that turf happened long ago. I cannot change what occurred or give my team back the chance we lost. But I will not let that defeat teach the next generation of girls they must accept being pushed aside.

My goal is simple. I want my sister and little cousins to grow up knowing that when adults fail to protect girls, those girls can still find the courage to protect one another.

I just wish we did not have to fight so hard for basic safety and respect.

The state championship ended because a boy won it. That loss hurts deeply. I refuse to let girls lose their voice in this same way.